


Standoff

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen, tense situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: After a reasonably routine all-night stake-out and take-down, the stop Hutch makes at his bank turns out to be anything but routine.





	Standoff

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I may have missed it, since I can’t claim to have read _every_ S &H story ‘out there,’ but I’ve never encountered this particular scenario, so I thought I’d adapt a spec script I wrote in 1978.

Starsky stared around at the walls, alley and dockyard of the warehouse he and his partner were watching. It was just before midnight, a low cloud layer precluded any moonlight, and the football-field-size yard wasn’t lighted. Starsky’s dark-adapted vision, though, was good enough to see that nothing was moving - not even cats or rats - and the only sound was the distant hum of always-present freeway traffic.

He and Hutch were hunkered down behind an industrial-size Dumpster at the edge of the huge open space. As part of a many-teams stake-out of Bay City’s industrial district that occupied the majority of the Second Precinct, they’d drawn this spot: the loading and unloading area for TransAllied Distribution. 

As he scanned, Starsky thought about the situation. For three months, an extremely savvy gang of thieves had targeted site after site, stolen millions of dollars worth of merchandise, killed two people, and vanished without a trace. Captain Jerry Tedesco of the Second, had mounted this task force but, so far, all their efforts had proved fruitless. The gang was either entirely too lucky, or had a source within the Department providing information on what locations had armed officers waiting.

“Hutch…” Starsky didn’t so much as say the name as think it when he cast a glance toward the other end of the huge container. “You awake?”

“Of course I’m awake.” Hutch’s answer was so quiet the sound couldn’t have escaped their confined space. “Why I’m awake is another question entirely.”

Starsky grinned inside; his partner could be irascible at times but not usually on a case this important. “Cast your mind back to this morning in Dobey’s office. We were both tired from last night’s bust but I know you were paying attention. Captain Todesco? Gang of rip-off artists who have killed the two night watchmen they’ve come across?”

Hutch’s shrug was barely discernable in the near-total-darkness. “Yeah, okay. I do remember that. But why did Dobey assign us? Todesco’s got lots of teams he can call on in the Second.”

Starsky shifted his cramped position marginally. “And Metro grapevine says every single one of them is staked-out somewhere tonight. But, maybe, since we’re out of a different precinct, the informant, if there is one, won’t know we’re here.”

“I like that thought, Starsk. We could get lucky.”

“Also, as I recall,” Starsky continued, unable to keep some smirky out of his voice, “the last time we saw Todesco, you told him we owed him, and he could call on us anytime he needed help.”

“I said that?”

“Yep.”

“Was I out of my mind?”

Starsky chuckled. “Possibly. You’d just finished his wife’s fresh strawberry pie and homemade ice cream at the BCPD picnic.”

Hutch pantomimed ‘ah, I remember now.’ The flash of white teeth in the darkness, and the halo of golden hair above, added a definite touch of elegance to their surroundings. “Any coffee left?”

“Plenty.” Starsky unscrewed the cap of a Thermos and filled it before re-sealing the container. He moved to the end of the trash bin, crouched, and handed it to Hutch.

“Thanks.” Hutch took a couple of swallows, gave it back. “Listen, don’t let me forget to stop at the bank later, okay?”

Starsky drank and passed the cup. “Sure. But I keep telling you, it’s no big deal.”

“Starsky!” Hutch must have realized he’d raised his voice into the almost-audible range because he grimaced. When he continued, after another swallow, it was sotto voce again. “Starsky, they credited my account with a hundred thousand dollars I’m not supposed to have.”

“So?” Starsky emptied the cup when it was handed back and slung the remaining drops away. “As long as you don’t head for someplace like Rio with it, they can’t do anything to you…. The computers’ll straighten it out next month. It’s their problem, Blintz, not yours!”

“I’d rather give the computer a chance to straighten it out in the morning, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you say.” Starsky crawled back to his end of the Dumpster and recapped the Thermos. Before he could settle again, his radio, turned to its lowest volume, sent out a quiet burst of static.

“Starsky!” Jerry Todesco’s voice crackled through the unit.

Starsky keyed the send button as Hutch crab-walked silently to his side. “Right here, Captain.”

“A dark brown sedan has been by our location twice, real slow.” The radio’s filter couldn’t mask Todesco’s tension. “No headlights. No dashboard lights inside, no license plate light outside; probably no plate at all. It’s headed toward you guys now. Maybe you picked the short straw.”

Hutch looked at him and flashed his teeth again in anticipation.

Starsky keyed his radio. “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll let you know.” Keeping the device in his hand, he and Hutch moved silently across the loading yard. Staying close to the walls, Starsky made his way to the west end of the platform while Hutch crept to the east. 

As Starsky leaped up, he caught sight of Hutch’s blond head when his partner crossed the dock and hid behind a stack of crates. They had both worn dark clothes, as the operation required, and Starsky knew his own almost-black hair would be invisible. Hutch’s locks, though, reflected every stray particle of ambient light; more so, now that they were out from behind the Dumpster. _He needs to wear a hat to these things_ , Starsky thought; somebody could take his head off from a block away!

Ducking into his hiding place, Starsky watched as the dark brown sedan entered their alleyway from the street. It made a one hundred eighty degree turn and backed to the dock. All four doors opened and a man got out of each one. They were dressed in dark clothes, too, and wearing ski masks. 

The man from the front passenger seat raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Okay, Charlie, bring it in! We got a lot to do.”

As they started toward the dock’s stairs, Starsky clicked the send button on the radio twice, put it away, and drew his Beretta. 

A two-ton truck backed into the alley and parked next to the sedan, it’s roll-up door already raised. It stopped when its rear bumper touched the dock and two more men got out.

Starsky un-pocketed the radio and, hoping his voice couldn’t be heard over the noise of both rumbling engines, whispered, “Six to two here, Cap.”

Without waiting for a reply, Starsky put the instrument back in his pocket and watched the gang of thieves. He knew Hutch had to be thinking about their late-arriving backup but was waiting patiently. Neither of them could afford to move until the end of the alley had been blocked and more cops were on-scene. They needed to take this entire gang tonight!

Starsky peeked around the edge of his concealment and saw the man who’d summoned the truck staring toward Hutch’s hiding place.

“Deke!” The man caught the arm of one of his henchmen. “Where those crates out here when you cased the place yesterday?”

“No, sir.”

“Why would they leave anything on the dock? I don’t like it.”

Deke pointed to where Starsky was crouched behind more conveniently-located cartons. “There’s more over here, sir. Maybe they’re full up inside.”

“Maybe…”

In the dark shadow behind Hutch’s crates, Starsky could make out the glow of Hutch’s hair and, apparently, Sir could too. He unholstered a weapon and sighted on that enticing target.

“Hutch! Get down!” Starsky jumped out onto the dock and dropped into his shooter’s stance. “Police! Everybody freeze!”

The blond head ducked as Sir fired and the bullet struck the wall behind Hutch’s stack of crates. 

Chaos reigned.

Starsky exchanged a few shots with the five guys milling around on the dock. Two were wounded and splinters of wood, plus chips of masonry from the containers and wall behind Starsky, flew in all directions. The three who were unhurt dropped their guns and raised their hands.

Even in the melee, Starsky saw Hutch bolt from his hiding place, tearing after Sir, who had dropped his walkie-talkie, jumped off the dock, and was sprinting toward the street. He must have realized that taking the time to climb into the truck, which was closest to him, wouldn’t be wise, and he was running for his life. With Hutch closing the gap, black and whites poured in, sealed the alley, skidded up to the dock, and bathed the entire area with high-beam headlights.

Checking Hutch’s progress every other second, Starsky kept his five guys contained until the new officers could surround them.

Even with Sir zigzagging and juking like a halfback, Hutch caught him, tackled him, and brought him down a foot from the front bumper of an unmarked, making Starsky smile. _You’ve still got it, Track Star_ , he thought. Unfortunately, Sir clearly wasn’t willing to give up quite yet; he struggled and thrashed. Starsky grimaced when he delivered a solid blow to the left side of Hutch’s head with his gun.

Starsky knew his partner was stunned and in trouble. Making sure his perps were in custody, Starsky leaped off the dock and pelted toward Hutch. As he drew close, Todesco stepped around the front of his car and placed the barrel of his service weapon at Sir’s right temple. “You’re done, turkey!”

Sir froze and gave no further resistance when two officers hauled him off Hutch, searched him, handing the gun to Todesco, before hustling him away. 

Starsky crouched next to Hutch and put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Hutch looked up at him, his eyes unfocused and a little glazed. The left side of his face was already red and swelling but the skin wasn’t broken.

Todesco squatted down on the blond’s other side. “That guy clouted him pretty good, Starsky.”

“Yeah, I saw. Let’s get him to a hospital.”

Hutch grabbed a sleeve on each of their arms. “No!” He took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Just help me sit up. Give me a minute.”

“I’ll give you anything you want, Hutchinson!” Todesco chortled. 

Starsky didn’t like the idea very much but, with the captain’s help, they eased Hutch into a sitting position against the car’s front bumper. 

Todesco looked closely at Hutch. “Your eyes don’t appear to be tracking too well. You should let your partner run you down to the ER.”

Hutch shook his head, paling when the movement obviously made his head hurt worse. “No, please, I don’t want --”

“Hutch hates hospitals as much as I do, Capt’n,” Starsky interrupted. He squeezed his partner’s shoulder in support of the refusal. “When the medics get here, they can check him out. We’ll wait and see what they say.”

“I’m okay, Starsk.” Hutch looked up at Todesco, definitely trying to appear as if he was. “Just let me sit here ‘til you’ve got these guys buttoned up. Then we’ll follow you downtown and do our share of the paperwork.” The color was coming back to Hutch’s face and he was focused again.

Todesco stood up. “Your call. And, God knows, I appreciate everything you two did tonight.” He turned around and assessed the scene. “Where are the paramedics? Anybody read these clowns their rights yet?” He walked away.

Starsky settled next to Hutch and slipped an arm around his shoulders, pulling gently until the blond head rested against his own shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to take that hundred thou and split for Rio, huh?”

Hutch chuffed a laugh.

*******

It had been a very long night and early morning but Starsky didn’t forget. He pulled the Torino to the curb and nudged Hutch, who was asleep, his head against the passenger window. “Hey, buddy…”

Hutch sat up, instantly awake, but not focused. “Where are we?”

Starsky pointed up the block. “The bank.”

Hutch smiled, fuzzily. “You remembered.”

“‘Course I did, dummy.” Starsky tried to get a good look in his partner’s eyes but Hutch turned away. Starsky put a hand on his arm. “How’s your head?”

Hutch patted the hand and reached for the door handle. “It’s fine, Starsk. I’m okay.”

“You know, that EMT you allowed to take a quick look at you did say you should go straight home and get some rest. He didn’t say anything about stopping at the bank.”

Starsky knew his partner was very well aware of what had been advised but the bank’s deposit error was visibly weighing on his mind. “This hour of the morning, there shouldn’t be much of a line. It’ll only take a few minutes.” He cast an almost pleading look at Starsky. “I need to take care of this, Starsk. I really do.”

“I know.” Starsky let go of his partner’s arm. “I just hope the customers don’t take one look at you and run for the hills.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been a train wreck.”

“Thanks for that kind assessment, partner. I promise I’ll let you mother-hen me to your heart’s content when we get to my place.” Hutch opened the door but hesitated. “You know… every time I walk into a bank these days, I wonder…”

Starsky did not need Hutch to finish that sentence. “Yeah.”

Hutch slid out and closed the door. He put a hand on the window sill and leaned down, gave Starsky a reassuring look. “Be right back.”

Starsky watched his tall, blond, lanky best friend walk up the block and enter the bank.

*******

As the door closed behind Hutch and his sunshine-blinded vision adjusted to the inside light, his last words to Starsky came to mind because he was instantly aware that something was very wrong. The tension was thick enough to cut and people in front of the tellers’ counter, one of them a uniformed guard, were getting down on the floor, menaced by an armed gunman. Reaching for his own weapon, Hutch felt the unmistakable twin barrels of a shotgun shoved into the small of his back.

“Don’t make any sudden moves, Cowboy.” It was a woman’s voice. “Hold your hands out, away from your body.”

While Hutch slowly pulled his hand out from under his shirt, a well-dressed man approached. He was of average height and weight, in his early-to-mid 50s, with dark hair slicked over what was probably a balding spot, gray eyes, clean-shaven cheeks, and full lips. His probably-bought-from-a-thrift-shop blue suit, yellow shirt, cobalt tie and polished shoes bespoke a desire to appear distinguished, even if slightly worn. “Look who’s here.” The smooth voice added a glossy layer to the likely second-hand clothes.

Hutch kept his tone level and neutral. “Hello, Billy.”

Billy motioned to the woman behind Hutch. “Search him carefully, Louise. He used to carry a .357 Magnum under his left arm.”

While keeping the barrels of the shotgun firmly in Hutch’s back, Louise quickly found the holster, unsnapped it, and removed the weapon. Stepping out from behind him, she handed the gun to Billy, keeping her sawed-off pointed at Hutch’s mid-section.

“Are you carrying an ankle piece, Ken?” Billy asked. Hutch shook his head and Billy smiled. “I’ll accept your word for that.” Allowing Hutch’s Python to drop casually to his side, Billy stepped back a pace and let his eyes scan Hutch from head to toe. “The years have agreed with you, my boy. Although you do look a trifle the worse for wear this morning.” He stepped close and appraised the side of Hutch’s head. “My, my, my, someone did you an injury. I’m sorry for that.”

Hutch shrugged exaggeratedly. “All in a night’s work.”

Billy retreated two paces. “Where is Dave? Don’t tell me you two have split up?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Hutch assured him. “He’s out front waiting for me. And you know it’ll only take him about thirty seconds to realize that there’s no one coming _out_ of this bank.” Hutch crossed his arms casually over his chest and glanced around at the other robbers, one standing at the vault door, one hovering over the prone customers, and another behind the teller’s cages. “That’s how long you’ve got to give yourselves up.”

Billy appeared distressed but not ready to topple his king. He turned toward the man at the vault. “Do hurry, Robinson. It seems we mustn’t linger.”

*******

Starsky drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Come on, Blondie! What’s keepin’ ya? Those aspirin have to be wearing off by now. You need some soup and about twelve hours of sleep!” 

A woman walked out of the cleaner’s next to the bank and got in a car at the curb. Almost before the door was shut, the driver pulled into traffic and drove away. With both spaces in front of the Torino vacant, Starsky noticed a dusty white panel van parked in the bank’s loading zone. Evidenced by the dirty air being pumped out of its exhaust pipe, the motor was running. 

Starsky stared at the over-size rear view mirror on the driver’s side until he made out the nervous young man who was hunched forward, staring at the bank’s front doors.

Starsky grabbed his radio mic and keyed it. “Zebra Three to Control.”

“Go ahead, Zebra Three,” the radio voice responded.

“Run a make on California license plate six four two Oh Cee Eee.” 

“Stand by.”

Consciously relaxing both the hand holding the mic and the one on the Torino’s steering wheel, Starsky waited. And, while he waited, he scanned the street; were there others involved? Another vehicle? 

“Zebra Three,” the radio voice came back, “California license six four two Oh Cee Eee… a white Ford Econoline van, reported stolen yesterday from the Lakecrest area.”

Starsky keyed the mic. “Roger that. It’s parked in front of the First Standard Bank on Fourteenth, closest cross street Marshall, with the motor running. Notify all available units of a probable Two-Eleven in progress at that location. Zebra Three out.”

Starsky hung up the mic and stepped out of the car as “All units, all units…” barked out of his radio. Glancing over his shoulder, as if looking for a break in traffic so he might cross the street, he walked forward. He could see in the side mirror that the driver’s concentration was still focused on the bank. 

As he approached, Starsky drew his Beretta, stuck it through the open window, and jammed it against the driver’s neck. “Police! Out of the van!”

Starsky pulled the door open and dragged the surprised getaway driver out, braced him against the vehicle and frisked him.

“I don’t have a gun!” The young man looked over his shoulder at Starsky. “I told him I wouldn’t carry one. I could never shoot anybody!”

Starsky pulled his cuffs out and dragged the driver’s hands behind his back. “Told who?” He tightened the restraints.

“Mr. Santos.”

Starsky spun the driver to face him. “ _Billy_ Santos?”

The young man now facing Starsky was plainly terrified. “Yeah. Yeah! He said we all had to have a gun but I wouldn’t --”

Starsky cut him off. “How many are in there?”

“Five.”

“Five, _plus_ Santos?” Starsky needed to be sure exactly what he and Hutch were facing.

“No. Counting him.”

Glancing along the street in both directions, Starsky saw black and whites arrive and block off the intersections. Cops poured out and began clearing pedestrians off the sidewalks. 

Starsky moved his captive to the middle of the van’s panel side. “What are they carrying?”

“Huh?” 

Starsky didn’t have time to be gentle. He shoved his forearm under the driver’s throat. “Guns! Weapons! What are they carryin’?”

“Uh…” Plainly trying to think when his world was imploding, the driver took a breath and tried again. “An automatic rifle, couple of shotguns… a few handguns, I think.”

Starsky felt sick to his stomach. “Terrific.”

A pair of uniformed officers arrived and one took the driver off Starsky’s hands, leading him toward their squad car. 

The second, a man Starsky knew to be a solid cop, put on his best no-nonsense face. “What’ve we got, Detective Starsky?”

“There are five in the bank, Tyler,” Starsky said. “Make sure the back entrance is covered. Call in and get as much help as you can, then set up a perimeter two blocks from here all around. Clear everybody off the street and as many out of ground-floor stores and shops on this block as you can.” 

“Yes, sir!” Tyler turned to leave.

Starsky caught his arm. “And tell whoever’s going to be in charge, we may need a SWAT team. They’ve got hostages.”

Tyler turned away as another uniform ran up from the opposite direction. Starsky knew him, too.

“Hey, Starsky, what’s happening?”

“Glad you’re here, Wilson. You know this area, right? This is your beat?”

“Yeah. Me and my partner, Gil Rogers. He’s organizing traffic diversion and street clearances.”

“Good. This is a one-story building.” Starsky’s eyes never stopped scanning. “Any way out except this front and, presumably, a back entrance?”

Wilson shook his head. “Only those. No roof access that I know of. No doors into adjacent shops.” He nodded toward the bank. “What’s going on?”

Starsky led the officer to the rear of the van and stared around the back corner toward the building. “A guy named Billy Santos, plus four others are in there… lots of weapons… unknown number of hostages. Is the back covered?”

“Yeah. Three units. More on the way. Has anybody moved inside? They said anything?”

“Not yet.”

“They’ve gotta know we’re out here.” When Starsky didn’t respond, Wilson asked, “What does ‘lots of weapons’ mean?”

“Automatic rifle, two shotguns, some hand guns.”

“Jesus!” Wilson was visibly shaken. “Is that all?”

“No… They’ve got Hutch.”

*******

Inside the First Standard Bank, Hutch and Billy Santos were standing in the middle of the floor. Robinson was in the vault, hauling sacks off shelves and stuffing them in two duffle bags. Two young female tellers and a slightly older woman who was, perhaps, the manager, stood reasonably calmly near the front wall behind the counter watching one of the thieves, an AR-15 slung over his shoulder, empty cash drawers into a large canvas bag. 

Another man stood over the prone customers and guard, a small handgun dangling from his left hand as he frisked them, removing wallets, watches, and jewelry. His jacket pockets were bulging. Apparently, the guard had not been armed. 

Louise and her shotgun had moved back to the front doors. “Mr. Santos…” Her voice betrayed taut nerves. “There’s more coming every second! They’re all over the street!”

“Thank you, Louise.” Santos sounded unruffled. “Just keep watching and try to remain calm. Everything will sort itself out presently.”

Hutch shook his head. “Nothing’s changed has it, Billy?”

Santos’s expression turned perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“Five years in the joint and you’re still the well-spoken, easy-going bank robber.” Hutch knew he sounded patronizing but didn’t care.

“I suppose…” Billy sobered. “Then again…” He visibly shook off less-than-happy memories. “It was _not_ a nice experience, Kenneth.”

“No, I don’t imagine it was.” Hutch allowed some compassion to seep into his tone. “And I’m going to be truly sorry when we have to send you back there.”

Santos stared at him. “We haven’t taken any money yet; we haven’t hurt anyone. You really don’t believe there is any way we’ll be able to talk our way out of this?”

Hutch figured it was a rhetorical question and didn’t answer. 

Billy shrugged. “We’ll see, we’ll see.” He looked toward the teller’s cages where his henchman was finishing with the cash drawers. “Bring the ladies out here, Eddie, and have them lay down with the others.” 

Eddie un-slung his rifle and herded the women ahead of him, dropping his sack at the end of the counter on his way around. “Get on the floor!” 

For the first time, Hutch was able to study these extra players. The thug who had been searching the customers and the guard, lurched backward. Short, skinny, and shifty-eyed, he was blatantly intimidated by Eddie and might cave at the first opportunity. At least Hutch hoped that would be the case.

Eddie was Hutch’s height, gaunt, haggard, and plainly wired on something because his eyes darted everywhere. He was another thrift-shop-dresser but his clothes were ill-chosen as well as old. Due solely to the continuously moving eyes, and the rage he saw in them, Hutch decided this one could be a problem.

The tellers and manager were unmistakably scared but keeping it together. They laid on the floor, side by side, holding hands but staying remarkably calm. The three customers and the guard were, thankfully, causing no trouble. Hutch wondered just how many times this branch had been held up.

Robinson came out of the vault and Santos turned to him. “Have you finished gathering?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Santos. Couldn’t get into the boxes, o’ course, but I got the rest.”

“Good.” Billy pointed to the bag Eddie had dropped. “Put them there, then go keep an eye on the back. We don’t want anyone coming in before we’re ready.”

Robinson set his duffle bags in the indicated spot, pulled a long-barreled shotgun from an over-the-back holster and moved to the rear door. 

“Now, Eddie,” Santos said quietly, “let Sam take over for you there, and come join me and my friend.”

Eddie motioned to the deferential thug who slunk back into position to make sure the customers, guard, and tellers didn’t move. Only then did Eddie stride to Billy. Overly casually, focusing his intense gaze now on Hutch, he slung the strap of his AR-15 over his shoulder and drew a handgun from his belt. 

“Edward…” Billy put a proprietary arm around Eddie’s waist. “You do remember my telling you about Starsky and Hutch, don’t you?” When all he got was a sullen nod, Santos continued. “Well, this is Hutch. Hutch, this is Eddie Manning, my… roommate at San Quentin.”

Hutch thought Manning looked resentful.

*******

Starsky, Wilson, and a few other officers were behind a barricade of patrol cars, half a block from the bank. The sidewalks were clear of pedestrians and no vehicles moved on the street. The getaway van had been towed and nothing obstructed the view of the front of the financial institution.

A group of uniformed and plain-clothes cops hurried toward them and Starsky went to meet them. “Captain Donnelly, Dave Starsky, thanks for getting here so quickly.” Starsky offered his hand and it was shaken firmly.

Donnelly reminded Starsky of Captain Dobey, not because of his skin color or bulk but because he was a commanding presence. “I’ve been briefed, Sergeant Starsky, and somebody said you already have a plan.”

“It’s not much of one, sir.” Starsky gestured over his shoulder. “The airline ticket office over there is directly across from the bank and there’s a view from their front window that shows as much of the inside of First Standard as we’re going to get.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Staying under the cover of diagonally parked squad cars, Starsky led the captain and the rest of his entourage to the ticket office. A well-groomed woman was waiting for them and Starsky made the introductions. “Captain, this is Mrs. Riley, manager of the office.”

Donnelly reached for her hand. “We appreciate your help very much.”

“You’re more than welcome, Captain. Now, I’ll take my people and get out of your way. The office is yours.” She and her employees went into a back room and closed the door.

Donnelly turned to his men. “I want phones, maps, blue prints of that bank, and anything else you can think of set up and operational ten minutes ago!”

“Yes, sir!” People scrambled.

He snagged another uniformed arm. “Tell everyone outside to hold tight. There’s to be no shooting without a direct order from me. Is that clear?” When the officer nodded and left, he turned to Starsky. “I’m told you know one of the perps.”

Starsky moved to the front of the space, Donnelly at his shoulder; they stared out the large plate glass window toward the bank. “His name is Billy Santos. My partner and I busted him five years ago. A nice guy, as bank robbers go. He was always quick and clean, no violence. He carried a lot of firepower but never used it. I have no idea what prison’s done to him, though. He’s probably waiting for us to make the first move.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I think you should call him, sir. Tell him exactly what the situation is, and see what he says. Find out which way he wants to play it.”

Donnelly turned around. “What’s the number over there?”

An officer handed him a slip of paper just as a technician placed a red phone and a speaker box on the desk next to the window, plugged the line into a floor jack and handed Donnelly the receiver. Punching buttons on both the base unit and the speaker, the tech stepped back as a dial tone filled the room. Donnelly checked the piece of paper and dialed. The ticket office was filled with the sound of the first ring. Donnelly hung up and waited.

*******

Hutch was beginning to feel the very long consecutive nights; his head throbbed and the light from the bank’s fluorescent fixtures felt like daggers in his eyes. Still, he stood straight, as relaxed as possible, and allowed neither Santos nor Manning to know of his discomfort. Starsky was working on a way to get everyone out safely and he was just going to have to be patient. _Hurry, Starsk_ , he couldn’t help but silently plead.

The phone on a desk behind a low rail rang. After the second ring, Santos motioned for Eddie to answer it.

Manning hurried around the divider and snatched up the receiver. “Yeah?” He listened for a few seconds, his body language and expression radiating tension. Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he looked at Billy. “Cops, Billy. They want to talk to you.”

Santos actually smiled. “Naturally.” He walked to the desk, carefully put Hutch’s gun in the middle of the blotter, and took the instrument from Manning. “This is Billy Santos. To whom am I speaking?” Billy held the phone to his ear for a few seconds, then looked down at the desk. “Yes, there does appear to be speaker capability. One moment, please.” He punched a button on the base unit and turned a knob on an adjacent device before hanging up. “Can you hear me, Captain?”

“I can,” a strong voice replied. “Allow me to repeat myself, Mr. Santos. I’m Captain Donnelly, BCPD, and I just wanted you to know the situation. The bank is surrounded and a two square block perimeter has been sealed off. There are approximately sixty uniformed officers around the building and SWAT teams are moving into position, front and back, as we speak.” 

Hutch caught Billy’s eye but Santos’s expression was unreadable. Next to him, Manning’s was undisguised fury and frustration - not a good combination in Hutch’s considered opinion.

“Now,” Donnelly’s voice continued, “we know there are five of you in there; that you have a large number of weapons and an unknown number of innocent people as hostages. Is that correct?”

Billy took a deep breath and his voice was calm. “Thank you, Captain, I appreciate your information. Yes, it is a reasonably accurate analysis of our position. There is one is thing you neglected to mention, however. A team of detectives is involved. My old and dear friend, Dave Starsky, is out there, with you.” Santos drilled a hard look at Hutch. “But we have his partner in here with us.”

Billy looked past Hutch to the front doors. “You did lock those earlier, did you not, Louise?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent! Now, then,” he continued, smiling at her, “Detective Hutchinson is going to walk over to them. Step back and cover him, please. If he so much as blinks, kill him.” 

“Yes, sir.” Louise looked unhappy but took two paces backward.

Billy motioned for Hutch to do as he’d indicated. “Hutch? Would you mind? I’d like your friends to be able to see you. I’m sure they have a vantage point somewhere close.”

Hutch hesitated but couldn’t think of a single thing a refusal would accomplish, so he turned and made his way to the glass double doors. Starsky and a tall, black, suited man, presumably Captain Donnelly, were staring at Hutch through a huge window across the street. Hutch allowed a small smile to curl the corners of his mouth and his partner returned a tight, crooked grin. 

Behind him, Hutch could hear Billy speaking again. “Now, I assume your view allows you to assure yourselves that Hutch is his healthy, handsome self.”

_We’re gonna get outta this, partner_ , Hutch heard in his head and the ache eased a bit. He widened his smile in response.

“Am I right?” Billy asked, coyly. “Other than the facial bruise, for which I am not responsible, there isn’t a mark on him…. Yet.”

“Don’t try threats, Santos,” Donnelly’s voice demanded. “Hutchinson is a cop. He knows the stakes.”

Hutch nearly turned from the door in order to watch Santos’s face and body language but found he couldn’t break eye contact with his partner. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” Santos continued. “I can’t bargain with his life because, as the public is led to believe, he’s a cop and, therefore, his life is less important than that of other hostages.”

Hutch felt Billy’s and Manning’s gazes boring into his back but he didn’t move; his entire focus was on Starsky.

“But, as _we_ know, Captain, that’s not true,” Billy went on. “He _is_ a cop, and a damn good one. He’s one of you. And, of all the people in here right now, he’s the one you don’t want to see injured any worse than he already is.”

Starsky remained so grim-faced with resolution it drove any negative thoughts right out of Hutch’s mind; they _were_ going to get through this. It just might take a little time. Hutch basked in his partner’s unblinking mental support.

“What’s your point?” Donnelly’s voice asked.

“Just trying to make sure we understand each other, Captain.” Santos’s tone was now riddled with patently false sympathy. “If and when bad things start to happen, Hutchinson goes first.” 

Starsky, not breaking eye contact with Hutch, spoke toward the speaker on the desk next to him, his voice ringing through the bank. “Tell Billy I need to talk to Hutch.”

“Is that you, David?” Santos sounded thrilled.

Starsky never looked away but raised his voice enough to play loudly within the bank. “Yeah, Billy, it’s me. Let me talk to Hutch.”

“Of course!” Billy sounded completely conciliatory. “Anything I can do to help. Louise, Hutch is going to walk over here now. Cover him but don’t leave the door.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hutch, your partner wishes to speak with you.”

Tearing his eyes from Starsky’s gaze, Hutch turned.

Manning backed away from Billy, un-slinging his AR-15. “You can’t do that, Billy! You can’t let him talk to anybody!”

“Eddie,” Santos’s tone had turned icy. “I told you once before, don’t ever try to tell me what I can and cannot do.” He breathed deeply and forced calm into his demeanor. “Hutch will give them an accurate, concise picture of the situation, and they will believe him. Something which cannot be said of you or me.”

“But,” Manning fumed, “he could tell ‘em anything!” 

“Nonsense. We will hear every word each of them says. Hutch will not attempt anything clever because there is nothing clever he can attempt.” Santos shrugged negligently and bore down on his next words. “Also, because he knows what would happen to the employees and customers if he did.”

As Hutch moved slowly toward the railing, Billy lifted a guest chair over the divider. “Sit down, Kenneth. You appear to be ready to fall over and we can’t have that.”

Wanting Santos and Manning to think he was weaker and more unsteady than he actually was, Hutch sank into the chair and leaned toward the speaker Santos pushed to the front of the desk. “Starsky?”

“How you doin’, buddy?” Starsky’s voice was strained but controlled.

“Fine, for now.” Hutch glanced at the closely listening Santos and Manning. “What’s happening out there?”

“Everything’s sealed tight.” Starsky was keeping his tone conversational and Hutch could only admire the restraint. “Looks like we’ve got half the black and whites in the city down here, plus two SWAT teams. What’s it look like in there?”

Hutch scanned the bank’s interior and slumped a little, hunching over the speaker as if in defeated weakness. “Everything’s cool. They’re got six civilians and a security guard on the floor in front of the teller’s counter and, so far, everybody’s okay. Eddie Manning, a cellmate of Billy’s, has an AR-15 and a handgun. He and Billy are just inside the manager’s rail, listening to every word we say. There’s a guy at the backdoor with a shotgun and another covering the hostages. Louise, as you heard, is at the front entrance. She has a sawed-off.”

Hutch leaned farther forward and dropped his shoulders. “Listen, Starsk, you tell those guys out there that this can be kept as a talking situation all the way through, if it’s handled right.”

“Go on,” Starsky’s voice sounded more tense now.

“I mean… uh…” Hutch deliberately stumbled, as if losing concentration. “So far, everybody’s been cool and nobody’s been hurt. Now, if somebody out there gets an itchy trigger finger, people are going to die. It may take some time but, obviously, nobody in here is going anywhere. Billy’s a reasonable man. I think, with patience, he’ll realize the hopelessness of the situation. He doesn’t want to see people get killed.” Glancing up at Billy, Hutch noted the satisfied expression, before pouring capitulation into his own gaze. “He certainly doesn’t want to die any more than I do.” Hutch slumped. “So just tell everybody to be patient. We need a little time.”

Hutch leaned his right elbow on the chair’s arm and massaged his temple, turning away from Santos slightly and lowering his voice. “But, geez, Starsk, I wish we hadn’t been up all night on that Duncan thing. I’m so tired I don’t know how long I can hold on.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch saw Manning go almost ballistic. Santos had to physically restrain him from jumping over the rail.

“Hang tight, buddy,” Starsky’s voice urged. “And don’t worry, I hear ya. We’ll do exactly what you say.”

Santos pushed Manning away and leaned over the speaker again. “David… Suppose we all think about things for a while, and then we’ll talk again. All right? Why don’t you have that Captain… Donnelly, was it? Have him call back in… say, half an hour?” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.

*******

As the tech disconnected from their end, Starsky spun away from the window. “We need the air conditioning plans for that building now!”

Donnelly motioned to one of his group. “I already asked for those. Go climb all over somebody’s ass!” As soon as the guy was out the door, Donnelly turned back to Starsky, his face showing confusion. “What did I miss?”

Starsky ran a hand through his hair, getting his thoughts together. “I don’t think Hutch has ever used the word ‘cool’ like that in his life. Much less twice! He wants us to pump some sort of gas into the a/c system, something that’ll knock everybody out, fast, before they have a chance to react.” He looked around for anybody who might be able to help. “Can we get the army down here? They should have something that’ll work.”

Donnelly gestured to another of his aides. “Contact Stanton, get him here right away!” After that man had gone, the captain turned to Starsky again. “I’ve heard about the spooky communication system you and Hutchinson are supposed to have, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d explain to me exactly what he told you.”

A uniformed officer handed each of them a cup of coffee and Starsky gratefully took a couple of swallows while Donnelly did the same. “Three things, Captain,” Starsky began. “No, four. First, he made sure we know exactly where everybody is. That could be for a number of reasons but his repeated use of the word ‘cool’ means the air conditioning system to me. I’m going to assume he’s noticed vents in the ceiling. Third, I believe he’s indicating some sort of knockout gas from his reference to being tired.”

The captain still didn’t understand and it showed. Starsky drank more coffee. “We _have_ been up two nights in a row, sir, but it wasn’t on the Duncan case. Hutch is more wide awake right now than any of us… that was his fourth key, in case I’d missed the others. Merrill Duncan was the finger man in a murder-extortion ring we busted last month. He owned a small business that sold and serviced air conditioning systems.”

Donnelly cocked his coffee cup at Starsky. “I tend to think your partner isn’t the only one who’s wide awake.”

*******

Inside the bank, Eddie stormed around throwing a bona fide tantrum. “I’m not gonna stand for this, Billy! We’re partners! We were cellmates. You can’t do this to me!” He brandished his gun in every direction during the tirade. Hutch noticed that the hostages were trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Finally, coming to a stop, Manning pointed the weapon at Billy. “I mean it, Billy.”

Santos raised his hands, palms outward, in a placating gesture. “Will you please calm down, Eddie?”

Manning stalked over, still pointing the gun at Billy’s chest. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna just stand around while they make up their minds to come blastin’ in here!” He threw a hateful look at Hutch before lowering the weapon. “He sounded innocent enough, but how do we know what he really told ‘em? Huh? What was that whisperin’ all about? I’m tellin’ you, Billy, we gotta do something!” 

Billy crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. “And just what do you propose we do?”

Eddie waved the gun again. “Let’s grab all the women and get the hell outta here!”

Hutch shook his head. “You’ve been in the joint too long, Manning. Police policy on hostages has changed.” He sat up straighter in his chair, still trying to give the impression of fatigue and weakness. “You see, this way, they _know_ the maximum number of people who might be injured or killed - in addition to the five of you, of course.” He looked at Billy, to make sure his words were being understood. “If a firefight occurred outside, there’s no telling what could happen. So, you just won’t be allowed to leave with hostages.”

Manning began to pace again and Santos looked thoughtful. He sat down and picked up Hutch’s gun, turning it over and over in his hands.

*******

Starsky, Donnelly, officer Wilson, a sergeant from Donnelly’s staff, and a business-suited man were studying a set of blueprints on a desk.

“Mr. Prendergast,” Starsky drilled the suited man with a glare. “Are these plans up to date? Do they include all modifications to the building and its systems?”

Prendergast puffed out his chest. “I assure you, Detective, our contractors were the very best. Any alterations to the original structure are included on these plans.”

Donnelly offered his hand to the offended man. “Thank you, sir. We really appreciate the bank’s cooperation.”

“Not at all.” Prendergast shook the captain’s hand. “If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He nodded, stiffly, toward Starsky, turned and left.

Donnelly drank from his cup of cold coffee. “Now all we need is the army.” He glanced at his sergeant. “Did they say how soon they’d get here?”

The sergeant looked at his watch. “Should be any minute, Captain.”

Donnelly leaned over the drawings again. “If Stanton can’t help us, we’re in kind of a bind. Only two entrances, and no way of getting anywhere near either of them without being seen.”

Starsky glanced at his watch. “It’s been almost half an hour.”

“I know.” Donnelly moved to the front window, picked up the phone, punched the speaker, and dialed.

*******

Hutch was still in the chair outside the rail; Manning was pacing, and Billy had seated himself in the swivel chair behind the desk, still fondling the Magnum. When the phone rang, Manning charged over and was hovering when Billy put the call on speaker. “Is that you, Captain?”

“Of course it is, Santos!” Donnelly’s voice was calm on the surface but Hutch could hear the underlying strain. “We’ve had all the other phone lines into the bank interrupted, so anytime it rings from now on, it’s me.” He drew in an audible breath before continuing. “Your thirty minutes are up. What do you want?”

Billy laid the weapon on the desk, leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Oh, it wasn’t _my_ thirty minutes, Captain. You misunderstood me. I just wanted all of us to have the chance to think about what’s at stake.”

Starsky’s voice erupted out of the speaker. “Okay, Billy, cut the bullshit! We’ve all thought about it, but nothing’s changed. We’re still out here and you’re still in there. Now, what kind of demands are you making?”

Billy didn’t even have to think about it. “Ken tells us that police policy has changed and we won’t be allowed out of here with innocents.”

“That’s absolutely right, Santos!” Donnelly’s tone had roughened some.

“Listen to me, please, David.” Billy had apparently saved all his persuasiveness for this moment. “All I’m asking for is safe passage.” 

“To where?” Starsky’s voice was edgy.

“The airport,” Billy said.

Donnelly broke in, his words betraying surprise. “Is that all?”

Santos leaned forward again and laced his fingers on top of the Python. “Of course not. You will have a fully-fueled helicopter waiting there, with one pilot. He will have instructions to fly me and my people anywhere I say… within the reasonable range of his aircraft.” Billy studied his fingernails for a moment. “Oh, yes, it must be a rather large helicopter because there will be one other person, besides my four people, joining us.”

Hutch could almost see his partner exchange looks with the captain before Starsky’s firm voice came back. “I thought you said you realized that you can’t take hostages with you, so don’t hold your breath, Billy.”

Santos leaned back again, affecting complete relaxation. “Oh, I won’t, David, I won’t. I simply hope you and the captain will give it serious consideration. I mean, after all, I’m willing to leave the money behind, as well as everyone except Kenneth. Plus, I promise you he will be released, unharmed, as soon as we reach our destination. You know I’m a man of my word, Dave. You can trust me.”

“Not my decision, Billy,” Starsky’s voice growled.

“Well, then? What do you say, Captain Donnelly?” Anxiety crept across Billy’s face.

Donnelly sounded guarded. “Only Hutchinson?”

“That is correct, Captain.”

Donnelly waited a few moments before responding. “We’ll have to think about it.”

Santos sat forward. “Of course, Captain. I understand. You have the number.” He disconnected the call abruptly, stood up and stuck the barrel of Hutch’s gun in his waistband.

Manning went back to his compulsive pacing. Billy leaned against the desk, keeping his now-worried gaze on his anxious former cellmate.

Hutch shifted his chair closer to the rail and pitched his voice so that only Santos would hear him. “Billy, you know this whole thing’s got nowhere to go…. You _know_ that.” Santos didn’t answer so Hutch tried a different tack. “What are you doing mixed up with a guy like Manning anyway? You always had more class.”

Billy appeared surprised. He moved the second guest chair closer to Hutch’s shoulder, only the rail separating them, and sat down. “Really?” 

Hutch realized he wasn’t lying when he answered. “Yeah. I remember Starsky and I talked about it. You had pulled two bank jobs, quick and clean, nobody hurt, nobody even overly frightened. You helped one lady gather up the bag of groceries she’d dropped.” Hutch thought about it. “You were a bank robber, and you sure as hell broke the law, but you did it with class.”

Santos turned contemplative. “Well, I’m afraid that attribute is not an enduring commodity in prison. It’s uglier than anything I ever imagined. You can’t know what it was like, especially for someone such as myself.” He sighed deeply. “You see, I’ve always been able to command obedience from subordinates because I was careful to choose only those I could intimidate.” A tone of self-contempt crept into his voice. “With my erudition, my sophistication and superiority… all that rot!” 

Santos scooted a few inched closer to the rail, lowering his voice even more. “In prison, it was a different world. They would have eaten me alive if I hadn’t accepted Eddie’s… protection. He may be a little crazy, but he saved my life.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch noticed that Manning had confined his pacing to the vicinity of the prone tellers. Hutch returned his main focus to Santos but kept a sliver of attention on Eddie. “What are you doing here, Billy? I assume you’re both out on parole.”

Santos nodded. “That is correct.”

Hutch truly didn’t understand. “If it was as terrible an experience as you say, why would you risk doing anything that would send you back?”

Santos lifted his hands, palms up. “Eddie wants to go home.” When Hutch didn’t reply, Santos shrugged. “His mother lives in Key West and he’s convinced himself that she’s going to die soon. He wants me to go with him and we just didn’t have the money.” He laced his fingers together. “It doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Hutch decided to be brutally honest. “No.”

Billy shrugged again. “Well, it doesn’t matter, I guess, but thanks for listening.”

Hutch had another thought. “Billy, why don’t you --”

A scream tore through the room and Hutch lurched to his feet. Manning had grabbed one of the tellers and jerked her into his arms.

“Come on now, honey,” Manning crooned. “We can keep each other from gettin’ bored for a while. There’s a nice little office back there that has a big couch in it…. You can take my mind off killin’ all these innocent people.”

Billy seemed unperturbed. “Leave the weapons.” He rose and returned to the swivel chair, placing the .357 back on the blotter.

As Manning dragged the girl past Sam, he handed the sullen thug his handgun and AR-15. Sam looked pleased.

Hutch glared at Santos. “You’d better stop him, Billy.”

“Nonsense.” Santos brushed invisible dust off the desk. “His pacing was getting on my nerves.”

“Then I will,” Hutch vowed.

Billy perked up. “If you think you can, my dear Kenneth, you go right ahead and try.”

Hutch moved quickly and silently across the bank and came up behind Eddie, who was completely involved with keeping the struggling girl under control. When Hutch put his arm around Manning’s neck and pulled him onto his toes, the robber was startled enough to release his captive. The woman scurried away and Hutch heard her run back to her friends.

For a few seconds, Eddie was immobile and Hutch hoped he might have the situation contained. Without warning, however, Manning went berserk, thrashing, kicking, clawing at Hutch’s arm, and screaming inarticulately. He reached back and tried to gouge Hutch’s eyes, his fingernails digging into Hutch’s face. 

Unable to hold onto the whirlwind, Hutch let go and stepped back. Instead of breaking away, though, as anyone might be expected to do, Eddie turned into Hutch, continuing to kick, flail and scream. 

They fell, and the best Hutch could do was try to keep Manning’s suddenly numerous hands away from his eyes. Eddie’s knee punched painfully into Hutch’s groin, causing him to nearly lose his grip. Instead, he grappled the frenetic man closer. Hutch knew that, in his less-than-optimum state, he had little hope of besting Manning but he continued to roll them around, hoping his opponent would tire. Fetching up against the railing around the desk area, Hutch managed to stand, dragging Eddie up with him.

Manning jerked an arm out of Hutch’s grasp, picked the phone up off the desk and slammed the entire instrument into the same side of Hutch’s head that had taken the earlier hit.

Hutch’s knees buckled and he went down as Eddie threw the phone away. Unfortunately, instead of backing off, Eddie bellowed and fell on top of him. Hutch pulled his knees and elbows in but Manning’s frenzied fists and knees kept finding Hutch’s head and other body parts. He fought to stay conscious while Manning jumped up and began kicking any part of Hutch within reach of his boot.

When the phone on Santos’s desk shrilled, Hutch barely heard it but he did hear Billy.

“That’s enough, Eddie!” Santos’ voice was conversational.

Eddie didn’t pay any attention and Hutch felt himself fading. He was only partially aware that Billy had crossed to them and had physically hauled Manning off him. 

Hutch laid in a state of semi-awareness and watched Billy move back to the desk, where he punched the phone and speaker buttons. “Were you watching, Captain? Binoculars, perhaps? It’s fairly dark in here, though. Bet you couldn’t see much, could you?”

“What’s happening over there, Billy?” Starsky’s voice made it through Hutch’s pain and muzziness as no other could have. 

“Nothing really, David.” Billy’s tone was entirely too light and unconcerned for Hutch’s taste. “Your partner was disputing my friend’s right to alleviate his boredom with a lovely young teller.”

Hutch knew Starsky was fighting to keep his voice level. “What have you done to him?”

“Oh, I will admit that he’s not quite in the undamaged condition he was a little while ago, but I assure you he’s still alive.” Billy sat back down in the swivel chair.

“Prove it!” Starsky’s voice was a snarling shot of adrenaline to Hutch.

Santos leaned back and laced his fingers behind his neck. “Why, of course, David. Hutch has my permission to go to the front doors… if he can.” He leaned forward again and cast a sympathetic look at Hutch. “Can you hear me, Hutch? David would like to assure himself that you are still alive.” He made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Go ahead.”

With Billy’s sickeningly sweet, infuriating voice echoing in his ears, Hutch struggled to his hands and knees and began to crawl toward the front doors. 

“That’s right,” Billy continued. “Just take your time. As you said, we’ve got nothing but time. We’re not going anywhere.”

With the help of the base of a check desk, Hutch got to his feet. A few stumbling steps was all he accomplished, though, before he fell into the rectangle of sunlight streaming through the glass. He crept forward a few more inches and laid down.

*******

Starsky, his sight focused on the prone figure inside the doors, felt sick to his stomach. Not taking his eyes off his partner, he shouted into the speaker. “Billy! I need to talk to him!”

Santos’s calm voice oozed throughout the room. “Oh, no. Not this time. You’ve satisfied yourself that he’s not dead but that’s all you get. And, actually, I’m quite sure his strength isn’t up to dragging himself all the way back here. And I promise you, David, he would get no help.” 

There was the sound of creaking and Starsky figured Santos might be swiveling a chair back and forth, doing his best to affect unconcern.

“Now,” Santos’s insouciant voice continued, “you gentlemen probably have some things to think about. When you have something pertinent to discuss, call again. Remember, safe passage to the airport and a large, fueled helicopter. Is that really to much to ask?” 

Starsky could hear Santos smiling. “Any time, gentlemen. We’ll be here. Oh, and David, I’m sure Hutch would like to ask you not to wait too long.”

The line was disconnected from the bank’s end and Starsky punched his own speaker off. He stared out the window at the sunlit prone figure.

“Take it easy, Starsky.” Donnelly moved up beside him, his gaze fixed across the street. “Stanton should be here any minute…. Unless you’ve got another idea.”

Starsky hated to admit it, even to himself, but he didn’t. 

*******

Hutch remained where he’d fallen until he’d taken a few un-pummeled breaths, then he turned his head so that he could see what was happening behind him. 

Manning was sitting on the floor, probably exactly where Santos had flung him. His face was scrunched in bottled-up fury and his fists pounded his thighs. The sound he was making pierced Hutch’s aching head; a kind of keening.

Santos was behind the desk, a placid expression on his face that Hutch had to admire.

The young teller that Manning had been going to take into the back office, got up, straightened her dress, and looked at Billy. “Mr. Santos?”

Hutch thought Billy appeared surprised that one of the pawns would have the nerve to address the chess master. “Yes, miss?”

The girl was undoubtedly scared but, with resolution in her tone, she gestured to Hutch. “You have to let me help me, Mr. Santos.” 

Billy flashed a look at Hutch, then smiled at her. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

She shook her head quickly. “Oh, we don’t. I mean… I’ve seen him in here before. He’s a customer.”

Billy was clearly enjoying the exchange. “Then why, pray tell, do I have to allow you to help him?”

“Because it’s my fault he’s hurt.” She cast another, compassionate glance at Hutch before moving a step toward Billy. “And also, because in order to stop me…” her voice became firmer, “you’d have to kill me. And that would start something I don’t think you want.”

Santos stood up and appraised her from head to foot, not even attempting to mask his disbelief. “But, my dear girl, suppose I have Sam crush your skull with the butt of his borrowed rifle? You would be dead, Mr. Hutchinson would not have been helped, and no one outside would be any the wiser.”

The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “Yes, I suppose you could do that.” She took another step forward. “But you won’t.”

Billy leaned casually against the desk, an inviting smile on his face. “And now, so that we don’t have to remain in suspense, you’re going to tell us why I won’t. Is that correct?”

She stopped where she was. “Because no matter what’s happened, I don’t believe you’re that kind of person. I think this whole thing has gone way beyond what you intended. You don’t hate any of us enough to want to see us killed.” She glanced at Hutch. “Not even Mr. Hutchinson.”

Santos considered for a moment. “What’s your name, my dear?”

“Debbie,” she replied.

Billy pushed himself off the desk. “Perhaps you’re right, Debbie.” He moved around behind the desk again and sat down. “Go ahead. Although I don’t know what you think you can do for him.”

Concerned that she was getting herself into something she wouldn’t be able to handle, but unable to do anything about it at the moment, Hutch watched her walk carefully past Sam and around behind the tellers’ counter. She bent down and opened something, straightening up with a first aid kit in her hand. Walking across the middle of the bank, she squatted down next to a tall, potted plant and pulled the dish out from under it. Standing again, she moved to the water cooler in the corner, rinsed off the dish and filled it. 

Walking slowly, probably trying not to spill a drop, she crossed to Hutch, knelt down and placed the items on the floor.

With her help, Hutch managed to roll over without doing any further damage to himself.

******

Starsky couldn’t blink; he watched a young woman kneel next to his partner, put something on the floor, and help him turn onto his back. “Who’s that?”

Wilson came to the window and peered across the street. “That’s one of the tellers. Her name’s Debbie.”

Starsky didn’t look away from Hutch. “You know her?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Starsky saw Wilson nod. “I do my banking at that branch.”

“Starsky!” Donnelly barked. “Army’s here.”

Starsky tore his concentration away from his partner and directed it toward Donnelly and the uniformed army officer next to him.

“Starsky,” Donnelly repeated. “This is Major Stanton. Chemical warfare.”

Starsky shook the extended hand. “Have you got anything we can use, sir?”

Stanton glanced out the window. “As I understand it, you want something that will be a rapid, harmless anesthetic.” When Starsky and Donnelly both nodded, the man actually smiled. “Yeah, we’ve got just what you need. Colorless, odorless… it can be pumped in through any ventilation system. It’s right out of spy novels in that it only takes one whiff.”

Donnelly and Wilson appeared relieved but Starsky had another worry now. “I’ve got a question. One man over there is injured. What will this stuff do to him?”

“Do you know how badly he’s hurt?” Stanton asked.

Starsky shook his head. “He had a mild concussion before he want in there and I know he’s taken a beating since, but I don’t know how severe.”

Stanton looked at Donnelly, then Starsky. “The only thing I can tell you is that our tests have shown the substance to have no more effect than a heavy anesthetic. It doesn’t induce coughing, increase heart action, or elevate blood pressure.” He shrugged again. “It _shouldn’t_ cause any additional harm. The person in question will go to sleep, like everyone else in there.”

Donnelly sent an appraising look at Starsky. “He’s your partner. What do you think? Want to risk it?”

Starsky hated the situation but knew they had no alternative. “Do we have a choice, Captain?” He turned back to the window.

Behind him, he heard Donnelly ask, “You brought enough?”

“We’ve can knock out half the city if you want to,” Stanton said.

Donnelly almost laughed. “That’s not a bad idea sometimes, but not today. Only those in the bank. The engineering people are standing by. You tell them what to do. Let me know when you’ve decided how you’re going to work it.”

Starsky heard people moving around behind him but he couldn’t drag his eyes from Hutch’s form on the floor behind the bank’s doors. He was on his back and the lady was setting out items from what looked like a first aid kit.

*******

Hutch smiled at the tense face leaning over him. “That was a brave thing you did.”

She blushed. “It didn’t feel brave.” She picked up a slim, square package and removed the blue covering. Dipping the gauze pad in the saucer’s water, she applied it gently to the blood around the worst cut on Hutch’s face. “We were all such cowards, to let this happen to you… especially after what you’d just done for me.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him. And you might have gotten yourselves hurt.” He winced a little and her hands froze. He took a breath and gestured for her to continue. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine.”

While Debbie continued her ministrations and Hutch tried to ignore the new aches and pains, he slipped his right hand under his head and raised it enough to watch the rest of the participants in this continuing drama. 

Eddie was pacing again, mumbling to himself, his eyes ceaselessly in motion. Billy, the Python in his waistband, wandered to the back door and had a conversation with Robinson. It appeared as if that member of the gang agreed with whatever Santos was saying; he nodded often.

Billy spoke with Manning on his way toward the front of the room and, for a few moments, Eddie calmed down. He slumped into the chair Hutch had occupied and dropped his head into his hands.

Santos walked to Louise and Hutch concentrated on listening to every word they said.

“Louise, I would like your considered opinion,” Billy began, softly. “Are you of the belief, as Robinson and I are, that the police will not bargain with us? And are, in fact, probably at this very moment, planning some sort of commando raid?”

Louise lowered her shotgun for the first time and let out a deep sigh. “God, Mr. Santos, I thought I was the only one around here with any sense left. No, sir, they won’t make any deals. No way!”

Billy patted her arm. “Do you then think we should surrender?”

She thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah. I don’t want to go back to prison but it’s better than dying.”

Billy nodded. “My sentiments exactly. Thank you for your candor. I’ll give you a sign when I’m ready.”

If Debbie had heard the exchange she didn’t show any indication of it; she was carefully applying a butterfly bandage to a cut over Hutch’s left eye.

Santos walked slowly across the open space and crouched in front of Manning, his hands on Eddie’s knees. Hutch couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could tell Manning didn’t like it.

*******

In the ticket office, Starsky, Donnelly and Stanton were pouring over the schematics of the bank. 

“The best way I think, since you say they’re all scattered out,” Stanton said, “is to pump under as much pressure as we can, simultaneously, from the three access points we have available - the two ventilation ducts on the roof, and the a/c tower in the back.”

Starsky straightened up. “Wait a minute! You can’t go stompin’ around on the roof, they’ll hear you.”

Stanton appeared offended. “Detective, I can assure you that my men will be as quiet as mice. No one in that bank is going to know my people are up there.”

Donnelly put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “He’s the expert here, Starsky. We have to believe he knows what he’s doing.”

Starsky realized he’d overstepped. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m a little more up tight than I thought. That’s my partner in there and he’s hurt.”

Stanton almost smiled and it seemed to be genuine. “I understand. I’d be worried, too. But I guarantee that no one in the bank will hear us.” He looked down again at the plans. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid there’s no way we’re going to get a uniform dispersal. Certain areas will be affected before others. Hopefully, though, since the air conditioning vents in front of the tellers’ counter are very near one of the roof sources, whoever is guarding the civilians will be taken out before the others notice.”

Donnelly checked his watch. “You say that should be within fifteen seconds?”

Stanton nodded. “Barring unforeseen circumstances, yes.”

Donnelly gave it one more long consideration. “All right. You give us the word when you begin. My officers will wait that long, then go. If we’re lucky, even if Santos or some of his men haven’t been affected, they won’t be able to get to the hostages.” He turned to one of his staff. “Cleary! Make sure everybody has a gas mask. I don’t want any of our own going down from this stuff.”

As the man darted away to do as ordered, Donnelly turned to the gathered officers. “Gentlemen, take your places. And I wish us all the best of luck!”

Starsky and the others exited the ticket office. Donnelly and his staff moved down the street toward their command vehicle. Stanton scurried to a clutch of men in army uniform. 

Starsky and Wilson accepted gas masks from a passing officer and crouched behind a black and white. Starsky stared at his partner who was still visible at the edge of the sunlight on the floor inside the doors.

*******

Manning lurched out his chair and Santos had to scramble back in order to avoid being trampled when Eddie bolted away from him, pacing again. After Billy had regained his balance and aplomb, he stepped in front of Manning and stopped him in mid-stride, a firm hand on his arm. 

“My dear Edward,” Billy said, soothingly, “as I was saying, it appears that our little caper is about to come to a conclusion - unsatisfactorily for us, I’m afraid.” He dropped his hand and brushed the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh well, such are the eccentricities of fate. We should not be too despondent, it was a well-conceived plan and it nearly succeeded.” He glanced at Hutch. “I must remember to be very unhappy with Ken for choosing that particular moment to walk in.” He shrugged and turned away from Manning. “Ah, but never mind. The police are probably, at this moment, preparing --”

Manning shoved Billy to the floor and backed away, his face red with rage. “I’m not gonna surrender, Billy. I’ll kill everybody in here first! I ain’t goin’ back to the joint!”

Billy climbed to his feet and straightened his suit jacket, turned, and walked calmly toward the front doors. With a hand hidden from Eddie’s pacing, he motioned to Louise, and Hutch heard the door’s dead bolt retract.

Hutch sat up and pulled his feet under him, catching Debbie by surprise. “Get behind me, Debbie, and please stay out of the way.” 

Quickly, she picked up the kit and saucer and crept to the wall.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hutch saw a uniformed officer dart between patrol cars, a gas mask over his face. Santos had evidently seen him, too, because he reached for the door’s push bar with one hand while he drew the Magnum and let it dangle by its trigger guard from the forefinger of the other.

Manning apparently sensed what was coming and dashed toward Santos, a rage in his eyes that made Hutch’s blood run cold.

Hutch launched himself and tackled Manning around the knees. 

*******

Starsky saw Santos reaching for the door as Hutch and Manning fell into the sunlight behind. His partner was, again, in the clutches of the frenzied Eddie. Not waiting for anybody else, but knowing Wilson was on his heels, Starsky ran around the front of the car, yelling, “Everybody move! Now! Go! Go! _Go_!”

*******

For the second time in less than an hour, Hutch was struggling with the same maniac. His face, ribs and groin were again being abused by what seemed like a crazed octopus. Everything hurt but he refused to give in; he continued to grapple with Manning until he felt his opponent suddenly halt his frantic movements. 

“Freeze, mister!” It was Starsky’s voice, tense and near.

Hutch released his hold on Manning and rolled onto his back. Gentle fingers laced into his hair and Hutch smiled up into his partner’s lop-sided grin. “Took ya long enough.”

Cops poured in and Hutch didn’t even attempt to follow all the action; he was content to know that Starsky and everybody else involved knew what to do and would do it. Santos, Manning, Sam, Robinson and Louise were no longer his concern. At least for the rest of the day.

Debbie crawled to him and lifted his head into her lap. 

Starsky sat down on the floor at Hutch’s left shoulder and holstered his Beretta. With a full-face smile, he leaned down and whispered in Hutch’s ear. “Now do you want to take the money and run?”

Hutch knew laughing was going to be painful but he couldn’t help it.

 

EPILOG

In Dobey’s office, with their captain behind his desk, Starsky was sitting on the arm of Hutch’s chair, sharing a cup of pretty bad coffee.

Starsky took a swallow, hid a grimace, and passed the cup to Hutch. “Did Santos really give us the key to the warehouse robbery gang’s ‘luck,’ Cap?”

Dobey laced his fingers on the desk, a very contented look on his face. “He sure did. Apparently, Nate Larkin, the leader of the gang, approached Santos a few weeks ago about joining his enterprise. Said he’d heard Santos and Manning were looking to make some money. Larkin guaranteed they’d never be busted because he, Larkin, had a man among the Second Precinct’s civilian employees who knew every officer’s assignment for every shift.”

Starsky realized it had been fortunate that he and Hutch had been drawn from a different precinct that night. “With that information, I’ll bet it didn’t take Todesco long to figure out who that civilian employee was.”

“Nope,” said Dobey. “He’s in a cell next to Larkin and the others.” 

Hutch drank, shuddered, and passed the cup back. “He’s facing the same murder and robbery charges as every member of the gang, right, Captain?”

Dobey nodded firmly. “That’s right.”

Starsky held the cup but didn’t drink; he was missing something. “But, why did Santos give up that kind of information?”

Hutch took the cup back. “Maybe he was grateful for the way we handled things.”

Starsky looked down at his partner. The bruise was fading from the left side of his face and the additional cuts he’d acquired from Manning were healing well. “ _You_ handled it, Hutch. You’re the one who talked the D.A. into filing lesser charges than he could have.”

“Why not, Starsk?” Hutch shrugged. “When you think about it, not much really happened. No money was taken, no one was hurt --”

“Present company excepted,” Starsky noted.

“Okay.” Hutch drank and gave the cup back. “But, what I mean is, it could have been a whole lot worse. They’ll each spend another few years in prison and maybe, just maybe, be the better for it this time.”

Dobey got up, crossed to the water cooler and drew a cup, before sitting back down. “And Manning?”

Hutch lifted his hands in a ‘who knows?’ gesture. “I’m hoping he’ll be able to get the help he needs, now that his mental condition is acknowledged.”

“What about his mother, Hutch?“ Starsky asked. “You said Santos and Manning were robbing the bank in order to get enough money to go visit her in Florida, right?”

Hutch nodded. “That’s what Billy told me.”

“I’ve got something here about that.” Dobey searched his desk, found what he was after, and looked up. “The D.A. checked, and found out that she died the day of the holdup.”

Hutch sighed. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, but get this.” Dobey scanned the piece of paper. “The D.A. also discovered that Manning’s the sole beneficiary of her will. Her house was paid for and it’s apparently worth a small fortune.”

Starsky laughed out loud. “Key West? Yeah, I guess.”

That bit of news seemed to settle Hutch. “So, when Billy and Eddie get out, if they’re still together, at least they won’t have a reason to rob any more banks.”

Starsky finished the coffee and got up. “Can’t argue with that ending.”

Dobey drank the rest of his water. “Sure can’t. Todesco’s happy, Donnelly’s happy, I’m happy --”

Starsky stopped at the door and turned back. “The Three Happy Captains! You guys should work up an act for the next talent night.”

Hutch laughed and joined him at the door while Dobey growled, “Get outta here, Starsky!”

Starsky closed Dobey’s door silently behind them and walked with Hutch to the coffee machine on top of the file cabinets. He filled a fresh cup for Hutch and re-filled his own. Tasting it, he grimaced and began adding cream and sugar. Hutch, after taking a sip, did the same.

“What about Debbie?” Starsky stirred his sludge.

“What about her?”

Starsky glanced at his blasé partner. “You gonna let her fix dinner for you, like I heard her ask you?”

“No.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Hutch headed to his desk. “Remember that uniform that came tearing into the bank right behind you?”

Starsky perched on the back of his chair. “Wilson. Yeah.” 

Hutch pulled out his chair and sat down. “He’s got a thing for her.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I noticed his heart was in his eyes every time he looked at her during the aftermath.”

“So?” Starsky sipped his coffee and decided even the additives hadn’t made it palatable. He set it down on his desk and got up. “Let’s head for Huggy’s.”

Hutch left his cup untouched, too, stood up and walked around to Starsky. “Now that Officer Wilson has a real reason to talk to her every time he goes in the bank, I think she’ll see it, too.”

Starsky walked toward the doors, knowing Hutch was right behind him. “Where do you hide your bow and arrows when you’re workin’, Cupid?” He pulled the door open and, receiving a gentle slap on the back of his head, ushered his partner through. Starsky grinned and followed.

*******

A stop at the bank  
A fraught situation and pain  
All’s well that ends well

 

END


End file.
